


from the window to the wall

by thunderylee



Category: KAT-TUN (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, offensive rap lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2019-01-21 10:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12456096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Koki takes Massu to the hip-hop club.





	from the window to the wall

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“This is so much fun!” Massu declares, grooving in time with the bass that seems to bump in time with Koki’s heartbeat. “Thanks for inviting me!”

“I had no idea you were into this kind of stuff,” Koki says, only he has to yell it with how loud the music is inside the underground club. “Tegoshi never mentioned it.”

“There’s a lot Tegoshi doesn’t know about me,” Massu replies, following his words with a promising wink and laughing when Koki lifts his eyebrows.

Nicki Minaj stops rapping about her fine ass and an old Lil’ Jon track mixes in, one that Koki remembers from his junior days when he was still finding himself. A glance to the side shows Massu mouthing along with the lyrics, and Koki’s impressed to learn that his companion knows _every word_.

Massu laughs again when he notices Koki looking, the deep, rich sound seeming to rumble though Koki more than the bass. “You look surprised.”

“Do you understand the lyrics?” Koki asks curiously.

“Sometimes.” Massu smirks. “I know the important words.”

This becomes evident as Ludacris follows, and Koki has to throw the rest of his drink back to deal with the implications of Massu basically rapping in dirty English. They’re standing by the bar, as guys do at the club, but only Massu’s looking out on the dance floor. Koki wonders what kind of girl he likes – the shy, sweet wallflower or the big-booty hoodrat. It’s really only the latter that frequent this type of establishment anyway.

“I think I’m going to go dance,” Massu says, and they fist pound.

“Get it, bro,” Koki replies, and Massu rolls his eyes as he starts weaving through people.

Once his neon hi-tops hit the dance floor, though, Koki realizes that his statement had been literal. Only Masuda Takahisa would go to a club to actually dance and not pick up girls. He’s not even paying attention to the hoards of scantily-clad women surrounding him, and after a few subtle pops and rolls of Massu’s body, neither is Koki.

He’s far enough away that his stare shouldn’t be noticed, though he’s a lot less concerned about it than he should be. Koki’s fairly open when it comes to all things sexual; it’s basically a requirement to be in KAT-TUN. When one has been intimate with a woman who used to be a man, there’s not much room left for social anguish.

A slower song bumps through the speakers, but Koki’s heart keeps thumping in his chest as Massu’s body automatically adjusts to the tempo. The words are just as dirty and everything about the atmosphere _screams_ “do me in the backseat” – in fact, Koki wouldn’t much mind making this sentiment a reality right about now. Koki drove tonight and his backseat is big enough.

Then a bold girl approaches Massu, gaining his attention by sliding her hand right up his arm, raking nails up the back of his neck, and Koki honestly thinks he’s going to push her away. Politely, because Massu is a gentleman, at least that’s what Koki thought for all of this time up until the second Massu eyes her and grabs her by the waist.

Koki’s jaw drops at how _filthy_ they’re dancing, hips rolling together like they’re grinding through their clothes right there on the dance floor, and it’s one of the hottest things Koki’s ever seen. He doesn’t peg himself as a voyeur, but he would have no problem watching them have sex right now. Massu could throw her up against the wall, or maybe bend her over right there on the dance floor, or find the closest seat for her to ride him.

Koki chokes on his breath and stops this line of thinking before he has an irreversible _hard_ problem. He tries to look at the other girls on the dance floor, the ones moving just as promiscuously and inviting him to join them, but his gaze always returns to the one moving fluidly with the music. Dressed in a loudly patterned shirt with uncharacteristic black slacks, his bright red hair shining in the spotlights, Massu won’t allow his eyes to stray for long.

The baby-making song ends and another upbeat one begins, but Massu gently detaches himself from the girl and nods apologetically at her before making his way back to the bar. Koki does his best to look casual, which he’s very bad at, and he’s not sure whether Massu’s just humoring him or not as he leans against the bar and orders a pair of shots.

One is placed in front of Koki, who gives Massu a curious look. Massu’s really good-looking up close (and far away), his eyes soft and attentive and his lips plump and inviting. Koki subconsciously bites his own lip as he accepts the shot and holds it up for a toast.

“To starships,” Massu says seriously. “May they fly.”

Koki laughs and drinks down the liquor, something sweet and strong just like he imagines Massu would be. “What is a starship, anyway?”

“Who knows,” Massu answers. “Can we head out? I’m getting a headache.”

“Yeah, sure,” Koki replies, and they settle the tab. As much as he loves this place, he can’t get out of there fast enough.

The quiet safety of his own car isn’t much better, and Koki sits for a minute as he collects himself.

“You okay, man?” Massu asks, looking concerned. “I can drive if you’re too drunk.”

“No, I’m good.” Koki sits up in his seat, suddenly sober. “Want to grab something to eat?”

“Of course,” Massu answers pointedly, like it’s a dumb question. “You got any Weezy in here?”

“Of course,” Koki replies, just as pointedly, and Massu flashes him a pleased smile as Koki pushes some buttons on his CD changer. It starts off thumping, but Koki rushes to turn down the volume to an acceptable level.

“Why’d you turn that down?” Massu asks. “That’s my jam.”

Koki turns to offer him a quick confused glance. “Didn’t you say you had a headache?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t from the music.” Massu snorts. “That girl must have _bathed_ in perfume. It was almost nauseating.”

“Oh,” is all Koki says. He wants to pretend like he hadn’t noticed that Massu had even been dancing with a girl, or maybe make jokes about how slutty she was, but he just nods and looks around for something that sells food and is open late.

“Hey, pull in here,” Massu says after a few blocks, gesturing towards a standalone taco hut.

Koki frowns. “I think they’re closed.”

“It’s cool,” Massu says with such an air of confidence that Koki thinks he has a key to the joint or something. “Park in the back, but not by the dumpster.”

Koki follows directions and backs into the spot, throwing the car into park and looking out at the dark, clearly empty back area of the restaurant. “Massu?”

Massu doesn’t answer him right away, bopping to the beat of the Lil’ Wayne song as he examines his nails and smoothes the wrinkles out of his pants. And when he speaks, it’s so low and quiet that Koki almost doesn’t hear him at first. Almost.

“What?” Koki asks, heart threatening to beat out of his chest, because he’d been caught.

“I saw how you were watching me,” Massu repeats, just as evenly as before. “At first I thought you were just looking at her, but you had the same predatory eyes when I walked back to the bar.”

“Did I,” Koki breathes, because he can’t lie or make excuses, not when they’re alone in his car in an abandoned lot.

In response, Massu reaches down to the side and drops his seat back, turning horizontal and looking to all the world like he had just laid back for a nap. His hands are even folded neatly on his stomach, which rises and falls at a regular pace, and his lips barely move as he says, “If you want something, you should jump on it instead of standing there watching someone else take it.”

“That’s good advice,” Koki responds, his voice coming out as a mumble as he fists the steering wheel. He’s not slow – and, really, even a slow person would understand this blatant fucking invitation – but he can’t move, frozen to his seat even though every fiber of his being wants to hop over the console and pounce.

“Did you want to be her?” Massu goes on, lifting his eyebrows in interest. “You can’t dance with me all the way over there, Koki-kun.”

Koki takes a deep breath that feels bigger than he is. “That’s true.”

He jerks at a touch to his elbow, which is followed by a tug and his hand flies off of the steering wheel, landing on the console. Massu’s fingers slide down his arm towards his palm, easing his fist open, and the soft trail of Massu’s nails along his skin seems to light every one of his nerves aflame.

Koki chances a look to the side, just in time to see Massu’s tongue darting out to lick his lips, and he’s not sure whether Massu pulls him down or whether Koki does it on his own, but the next second has those wet lips on his and their bodies flush together. Something growl-like forms in Koki’s throat and Massu’s arms are around him, hands clutching his waist and pushing _down_ , and Koki feels the firm mass in Massu’s pants at the same time Massu’s tongue flicks his.

Koki wants to ask why, why here, why him, but Massu’s kiss is way too enticing and all Koki can do is give in. His hips move on their own and Massu’s aren’t exactly staying still either, moving with more intent than he had on the dance floor and not at all in time with the beat vibrating the speakers. Massu’s groan dies on Koki’s tongue and it goes straight to his dick, which grows even harder as it rubs against Massu’s through their pants.

“Fuck,” he gets out, and he feels Massu’s smile against his lips.

“That’s the idea,” Massu replies, his voice deep and sinful and Koki’s smacking his hand on everything to get into the console from the wrong side.

An embarrassingly high-pitched moan escapes from his lungs when Massu brings his hands around Koki’s waist to palm the front of his pants, unbuckling his belt and popping the button to get closer. Koki manages to grab the lube and condoms as Massu guides him out of one pant leg, mouths slipping together more heatedly now that Massu’s stroking him directly. He drops the items on Massu’s chest and gets to work on Massu’s pants, drinking down the deep groan that tickles his tongue as he makes direct contact with Massu’s length.

It happens fast, Massu’s touch leaving him long enough to slick his fingers and return a little further back, where he twists his way into Koki while swallowing the resulting gasps. Koki doesn’t do this often and he doesn’t want to stop to think about why he’s doing it now, his body rocking back on its own and responding favorably to Massu’s gentle yet firm stretching.

His hand tightens on Massu’s cock and pulls a groan so delicious that Koki grabs the condom himself and rolls it on, pushing back against Massu’s fingers and shuddering when Massu hits him right where he wants it.

“Koki-kun,” Massu mutters, and it’s hotter than any time a girl has said his name. “Open up for me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s so simultaneously sweet and _dirty_ that Koki kisses him harder, losing his mind from Massu’s hot tongue and the way he’s probing inside him. He feels a third finger go in and does his best to relax, inhaling sharply through his nose and Massu slows down, falls from Koki’s mouth and drags wet lips down his jaw and neck.

Koki shivers as Massu gets close to his ear, little grunts emitting with each breath from the way Koki’s lubing him with both hands. “I knew you were watching,” Massu whispers, and the tension in Koki’s body dissipates like that was the magic password. “I don’t even like girls. _Damn_  you smell good.”

“Fuck,” Koki hisses again, and this time decides to roll with it. “Fuck _me_.”

He gets a groan in response, one that lingers in his bones like a low bass line underneath the staccato bumps of the music. Massu’s touch disappears from between his legs, but then he’s being urged forward by his hips, sitting up and straddling Massu’s waist, and Koki tries to focus on the beautiful face beneath him, flushed with arousal and lips shining from kissing.

“Let’s ride,” Massu says, taking his cock in hand, and Koki eases himself down onto it. It’s big but he can take it; it helps that Massu’s biting his lip like he’s the one being stretched and filled, his back arching and his eyes squeezing shut as Koki sits all the way down. Koki waits for a few seconds, giving his body time to adjust, then starts to roll his hips, slowly building up a rhythm.

Massu rocks with him, gradually thrusting up with each grind down, and Koki can’t look away from his face. It’s shamelessly contorted and Koki fights to keep his eyes open, though every part of him wants to give in to the feeling of Massu deep inside him, toss his head back and just _bounce_ with everything he has. Fingers grasp his hips hard enough to bruise and it hurts so good, his pace quickly increasing from the rough treatment.

“Koki-kun,” Massu whines, his voice strained, and Koki moves faster. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“You too,” Koki replies, feeling his face heat up at the admission. “You can do it harder if you want.”

He expects an ‘are you sure?’, but instead his head almost hits the ceiling as Massu pounds up into him from below, a loud groan tearing from his throat and Koki has to struggle to keep up. It feels like Massu is fucking his brains out and he loves it, grabbing onto the door for some sense of stability. Leaning forward a bit has Massu hitting that spot, and his own moans join the mix as Massu’s skin starts to shine with sweat.

His other hand reaches down to wrap around himself without active thought, the sudden accumulation of tension pulling another noise from Massu. Koki feels another hand cover his and Massu’s moving much faster than he is, thumbing the head of Koki’s cock on each stroke and orgasm hits him so fast that he can’t try to stop it or issue a warning.

Massu gets rougher after Koki comes, yanking Koki down by the hips with each sharp thrust, and it just takes Koki higher and makes it even _better_ until Massu chokes on his air and throbs inside him. Koki feels it all and falls forward, both hearts racing as Massu stills and struggles to catch his breath.

“I really liked this shirt,” Massu wheezes, frowning down at the eyesore of patterns decorated by Koki’s release, and Koki thinks he’s done everyone a favor by potentially ruining it.

“Damn,” is all he says, because it’s how he feels, and Massu grunts. “If it’s going to be like that, who needs women?”

“Bitches ain’t shit but hos and tricks,” Massu quotes, and Koki weakly lifts his hand for a fist pound.


End file.
